


some really great moisturizer

by rainbowshoes



Series: forms of love [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Gwent (The Witcher), Lille | Dana Meadbh, implied Eskel/Jaskier, implied Lambert/Aiden, italics abuse, references and uses book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowshoes/pseuds/rainbowshoes
Summary: i figured i'd post a portion of my very-much-longer wip; here's a fic that goes with thatlambert stumbles upon jaskier playing gwent in a tavern in lower posada with some peasant woman and things absolutely do not turn out any sort of way lambert could have possibly anticipated(otherwise known as my take on how jaskier gets immortality)
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert
Series: forms of love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007655
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	some really great moisturizer

**Author's Note:**

> if you haven't read the books, the whole... going to posada and fighting torque and getting the lute thing happened a bit differently than in the show. all you really need to know for this to make sense is that while they were in posada, geralt and jaskier met lille - otherwise known as [dana meadbh](https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/Dana_Meadbh), the queen of the fields and an actual goddess. 
> 
> i like the books AND the show and i know only like a very little bit about the games but i shamelessly exploit all three canons to suit my needs bc why the fuck not
> 
> the greater wip this belongs with is eventual jaskel but bc there isn't much reference to that in the fic itself, i didn't tag it that way

The bard -  _ the  _ bard, there was only fucking one of them on the whole godsdamed continent Lambert ever would have given more than a passing glance, so yes,  _ that _ bard - was drunk. Shitfaced. Absolutely gone. Lambert knew that look, knew what it felt like, had seen it hundreds, thousands of times, and had experienced it just as often. And yet there he was, sitting at the damn table in the nearly empty tavern in  _ Lower Posada  _ of all the fucking shit places in the world, across from a woman. And he wasn't flirting, wasn't playing his lute, wasn't even really smiling. 

They were playing  _ fucking Gwent _ . 

Lambert perched on top of his table in the back to get a better look at the game, and he was damn floored. Jaskier had just played Sihil and was very obviously winning. It was almost painful to watch as his next moves dealt out Aguara  _ and  _ the Korathi Heat Wave. Lambert also seriously considered stealing all of Jaskier's Gwent cards. He'd probably forgive him. Maybe. 

The woman across from him smiled when she lost, and she swept her deck into a neat pile and helped Jaskier gather his. He was laughing a little and their fingers brushed, but there wasn't even a  _ hint  _ of teasing and flirting. Lambert sort of really wished there was so he had some great ammunition against Jaskier. The fact that Jaskier  _ wasn't  _ trying to get into her skirts was odd, and certainly had its uses as joke material, but it wasn't the same. Not as satisfying, maybe. 

"Fantastic game, once again, Lille," Jaskier said cheerfully. He tucked his cards into a fancy, carved box. Lambert squinted at it, but he couldn't quite make out the detailing. He was pretty sure he knew  _ exactly _ where it had come from, though, and he was going to enjoy the fuck out of giving Eskel hell over it the next time he saw him. "You've gotten so much better!"

"You still beat me," the woman - Lille - said with a soft smile. 

Jaskier waved that comment away. "Just takes more practice, is all. I've had loads more than you, playing at Oxenfurt and with so many others." He grinned and leaned over the table. "My friend Lambert - and you can't ever tell him I called him that, we have a prank war going, it would be terrible for my image, but he truly is, more like a brother, but you can't tell him that, either." Jaskier shook a finger at her, and Lille nodded and smiled, clearly deeply amused by this. Something hot and tight and painful squeezed in Lambert's chest, but he ignored it. "Anyway - what was I saying? Oh. Right. He is _very good_ at Gwent. Best person I've ever played. I have to use all my best tricks against him. And you can't tell him that either! But don't worry. You will absolutely get better. Don't you have anyone here you can play against? It must be dreadfully boring waiting to play against me."

Lille smiled again, her mouth curving up to one side. "I do, yes. I play Filavandrel and his people. We have quite the collection of cards now, in part thanks to you." She nodded at him. "Filavandrel also says your translation of 'The Flower of Ettariel' was quite well done, and he liked the elvish music. Toruviel says you've made fine use of her gift."

Lambert sat back and cradled his shitty ale close. So. Jaskier had been telling the truth about his and Geralt's trip to Posada, then. He hadn't been able to smell a lie on him at the time, but Lambert had long ago assumed Jaskier was either an extremely talented liar or knew how to talk around untruths so skillfully that he would never be able to smell them. This story was making him reconsider that opinion just a little. Jaskier's story about the lute had been fucking insane, but to find out it was apparently true? That actually lent some credibility to some of Jaskier's other, less crazy stories. He'd never dare apologize, though. 

Jaskier was positively beaming at Lille. "I'm glad they appreciated it! Tell them I'd be very happy to sing it for them in person, if they like. I have one about Shaerrawedd, also. It's -" Jaskier's face fell a little, and Lambert was ready to march over there. "Nevermind. I don't want to sing that one. It's too sad." 

Lille stretched her hand across the table and held Jaskier's fingers. "Tell me about your travels," she requested instead, and Jaskier immediately brightened and launched into a frankly ridiculous story about running from some bandits through a fucking  _ endrega  _ nest that Lambert actually didn't doubt for a fucking second. Little shit was talented like that. Slippery. Also a small target for all that he wasn't, in fact, a small person. 

The night wore on, and the young woman minding the tavern fell into a doze in front of the fire, her head pillowed on her arms. Lambert filled his own tankard on silent feet and returned to his dark corner. He wasn't quite ready to surrender his watch, yet, even if he was tired. He'd just sat down and was making himself comfortable for a long wait when his medallion began to hum gently. It made him tense all over. 

"Hm?" Jaskier was asking. Lille was holding his hand again. 

"You won our game, remember?" Lille asked patiently. "I'm upholding my end of the bargain. You wanted me to give you something for wrinkles." She laughed very quietly and squeezed his hand a little tighter. The space between their fingers glowed pale yellow. 

Lambert shot up and jumped over his table, darting over to them. Lille held up her hand, and Lambert realized she looked  _ nothing _ like she had a moment ago. Gone was the skinny, awkward-looking peasant woman. In her place was a fucking goddess. Literally. 

"What are you doing to him?" He demanded. He drew the silver dagger from its spot on his hip. Jaskier's eyes fluttered closed, and he jerked forward. Lille smiled and caught Jaskier, easing him to the table in a gentle slump. She then stood and faced Lambert directly. 

"You must be Lambert." She said it with crinkled eyes and an amused smile. He narrowed his eyes at her and tried to shift to the side to get closer to Jaskier. She didn't budge. "I haven't harmed him, I promise you. In fact, you might say I've done the opposite." 

"What the fuck does that mean?" Lambert snarled. "You did magic on him. Undo it." 

She shook her head. "It was a bargain, and I have fulfilled my end of it." She stepped closer to Lambert, who held his ground by sheer force of will and bloodymindedness alone. "I have given him long life and good health. It is not true immortality, as that is beyond even my power. But you may find, should you keep yourself alive, young witcher, that he will not die before you. He will age, but it will be slow, like the wind weathering a mountain." She leaned even closer and pressed the faintest of kisses to Lambert's scarred cheek - it felt warm and it tingled oddly. "Keep him safe. You are his family, after all." 

And then she walked swiftly away, vanishing into the dark night. 

Lambert shook himself from his stupor, then gaped at Jaskier. He shook Jaskier awake immediately, and it was clear he was still incredibly drunk. "What deal did you make with that woman - with Lille?" 

Jaskier blinked slowly. "Hm? If I beat her at Gwent she was going to give me some really great moisturizer." He then smiled and threw out his arms. "Lambert! What are you doing here?" He bullied his way into a hug, and Lambert was too dumbfounded not to let him. 

"Had a job," he managed to answer. "Fucking shit, you reek of booze." And  _ magic _ . "You have a room?" Jaskier nodded and immediately began to wriggle so he could get his hand into one of his absurdly tight pockets. "Great. I'm crashing with you. Bed, now." It was far too easy to yank Jaskier up by his arm and haul him to his room - gently, of course, he wasn't a fucking animal - and then make sure Jaskier ate some bread and had a  _ lot  _ of water and then at least took off his jerkin and his boots before he spilled into the bed. 

Lambert sat on the outer edge of the double bed and considered things for a moment. Jaskier had clearly agreed to the bargain. He'd been a fucking idiot and had misinterpreted it - either deliberately or not, but he had. But it didn't seem as if Lille had hurt him. She'd said she'd given him  _ long life _ in fact. 

He knew one thing absolutely for certain. He was  _ not  _ telling Eskel. Never. He would use this information to get the absolute best revenge on Jaskier at some point in the future. And he also was going to tell Aiden as soon as he possibly could. Probably Coën also, after he swore him to secrecy. He had bets to make about how long it would take Jaskier and Eskel - and, fuck, even Geralt - to notice Jaskier not aging. He was willing to bet it would take at least fifteen more years.  _ At minimum _ . 

* * *

It wasn't until nearly two weeks later, long after Lambert had teased Jaskier about not remembering anything from that night and he was heading for an extended contract he'd heard about in Hagge that he realized something. It made him come to a dead stop in the middle of the road. 

Lille was  _ Dana fucking Meadbh.  _ And she'd kissed his cheek and probably fucking blessed him or something. He began to laugh so uncontrollably he startled his own horse. 

He couldn't  _ wait  _ to meet up with Aiden again. 

**Author's Note:**

> i know almost NOTHING about gwent - i watched a few youtube videos about how to play it in-game and i looked up some shit about the really rare cards idk does it matter anyway?
> 
> hop on over to [my tumblr](https://shyglittercreature.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat or yell or whatever


End file.
